


Caged Heat

by AndreaDTX



Series: What's Your Fantasy? [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Cock Cages, M/M, Power Play, Riding, Sex Toys, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaDTX/pseuds/AndreaDTX
Summary: Dean figures out a way to combine his newest fantasy with Sam's favorite fantasy.





	Caged Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work I've been kicking around in my mind for months, trying to get it onto paper. I've tinkered and I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out, but I'd love some feedback on the flow of the story. I tried to do some different things with the boys this story but I want to make sure it doesn't drag and that it's all focused and engaging. Let me know what you think!

 

“I got a fantasy that’d fit really well with that thing you like me to do, but it’d mean I’m in charge tonight.”

The casual words are so soft and unexpected Sam nearly misses the first half, even in the quiet of the bunker’s library. But where his conscious brain has to second guess, his lizard brain perks up immediately at the second half, ready to play.

When they first started playing this back and forth game, Sam had been hesitant. Conceding in any form chafes against his personality, messes with how he sees himself. But Dean… He makes it so easy, so _worth_ it. Every time. Now, it’s fun. Any fight Sam puts up is nominal, just to make sure Dean never takes Sam’s easy acquiescence, his trust, his… submission, for granted.

This is different though. Normally, it’s completely up to Sam. He gets to decide, to hem and haw for days, weeks, when they’ll play this particular game. Knowing he’s actually asking, _begging_ , to be controlled makes it that much harder but also makes the mind fuck a thousand times stronger. So Dean’s gotta have something good if he’s risking Sam lashing out at him for bringing up this fantasy unprompted.

Sam considers the last couple of times he let Dean take over and a thrill races down his spine…

This is gonna be so good.

Taking a deep, not-quite-calming breath, Sam closes the laptop, all thoughts of organizing hunter notes pushed aside, and swivels his chair to face his brother who’s standing near the stacks with his hands not-at-all-suspiciously tucked behind his back. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You’re in charge. What’re we doing?”

Dean grins. A deep, toothy grin that lights up his eyes with infectious joy, a rarity these days. “First, lemme hear your safe word.”

Sam gives the expected eyeroll. “Patches.”

“Awesome. Stand up.”

He does and takes another deep breath, letting the warm, reassuring mesquite wood and motor oil smell he associates with Dean wash over his senses as his brother steps into his space.

“Alright. See that clock on the wall,” Dean asks, indicating the library’s far wall behind him and in front of Sam.

Sam glances up at the old black-and-white analog clock above the connecting door to the archives.

“Yeah.”

“Keep your eyes on it. Don’t look down, no matter what I do or what you feel. Got it?”

Sam’s stomach flips, nerves fluttering with anticipation and a tiny, perfect sliver of fear. “Got it.”

He locks eyes on the clock and focuses on keeping his breathing steady. But the shorter, bristly hair on the curve of Dean’s bowed head, moves along the lower edge of his peripheral vision, just high enough to constantly tempt him to look down. He resists, barely, but still reaches out with his other senses, mind racing, gleeful at the challenge of trying to figure out Dean’s next move. He listens, trying to form a mental picture.

A solid click of wood on wood, probably Dean setting whatever he’d had behind his back on the table.

Distantly, maybe inside the box, metallic clinking. Sam can barely resist a shiver at all the possibilities of what that metal might be, what Dean might do with it.

What little mental image he’s formed is broken when Dean’s hands lift his t-shirt, baring his stomach. His breath hitches as nimble fingers ghost down to unhook his belt, work open the top button of his pants, pull down his zipper. His undone jeans settle lower on his hips, threaten to maybe even fall off.

He sucks in his tummy as Dean fingers slide inside the waist band of his underwear. Dean’s hand plays, running lightly over the softer skin, fingernails rasping through wiry curls. In his mind’s eye, he can already see Dean’s fingers wrapped around his cock, an act he’s seen and experienced hundreds of times. Sam holds his breath, waiting for that wonderful, tight squeeze, waiting, waiting… until he’s poked unceremoniously in the stomach, causing him to cough out the breath he’s been holding.

“Relax,” Dean says with a chuckle.

Sam laughs, a bit strained, and he tries. But not being able to see what’s happening, _intentionally_ not looking because he’s been told not to, keeps him keyed up, forcing him into that Space in his mind without Sam really meaning to go there.

Dean hums, maybe conceding the futility of the order. “Just try to stay with me then. You seem like you’re going under really fast.”

Sam nods, but remains silent. They’ve never really talked about it, but Dean knows Sam better than anyone else ever has. He knows what playing this game does for him. To him.

So it makes sense it’s only scant seconds before his hands are back inside Sam’s underwear, grasping his cock, pulling him out, baring him.

It’s a favored move of Dean’s when he’s ‘in charge’ because he knows it unsettles Sam, for one of the most vulnerable parts of his body, the part he’s most selective in sharing, to be the focal point of attention. Particularly right now when he hasn’t had time to grow fully hard, to become the very picture of throbbing masculinity. The tingles and trickles of arousal are there, but there hasn’t been enough time or stimulation. Without looking, Sam knows that his cock is hanging out, pink, chubby, barely hard. Nothing to sneeze at size-wise even flaccid but not quite intimidating, as it quivers with the nascent flow of desire. Sam’s cheeks tingle and burn and he knows he’s blushing.

Dean chuckles knowingly, grips the thread Sam’s dangling and tugs. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Sammy. In fact, it’s cute. Downright adorable really. And we both know how you wield that thing when it’s hard. You’re probably pretty proud of that, huh?”

Sam’s hands twitch at his sides, his fingers itching to either cover himself or to stroke himself to the full, powerful hardness he’s used to work, pound, _fuck_ Dean until he was crying with pleasure and he has no problem admitting that, yes, he’s _damned_ proud of it. But he manages to stay still and keep his eyes fixed on the clock even as his eyes sting a bit with the intensity of his unbroken stare. Regardless of physical stimulation, nature will eventually take its course.

Dean hums, intentionally unhelpful. He uses a single finger to lift Sam’s cock in a way that makes Sam squirm.

“You know, I think… I think I want it to stay just like this, nice and soft and cute.”

Dean lets go, letting Sam’s cock flop down to the quarter-mast its filled to.

“Yeah. Last time… I had to teach you who controlled that tight, little hole of yours. When it’s open… When it’s closed… What goes in and out of it... We had a great time, remember?”

Sam remembers Dean working him over with one of the biggest butt plugs they have, licking and blowing and teasing, opening and closing him over and over again, making him beg for more. He groans and nods, his cock jerking and filling to half-mast at just the memory.

“I thought so. Well, today… Today… you don’t have permission to get hard. How’s that sound?”

Sam shivers violently and his body immediately tries to prove the contrary.

Dean tsks in feigned disappointment. “Can’t have that, now can we, Sammy? But that’s alright. I got something to help you with that. Don’t. Look. Down.”

Sam scrambles to find something to focus on.

The ticking of the clock.

The click of wood on wood.

Metallic clinking.

The sound of his own breathing.

Sam yelps when something ice cold makes contact with his sac, a sharp contrast from Dean’s warm hands. Startled, Sam reflexively starts to look down before he remembers his orders and snatches his eyes back to the clock. His fingers curl into fists and his thigh muscles tense and twitch as Dean coaxes the coldness around his sac and the base of his cock. He reflexively clenches his stomach and can feel his cock going limp as the circle of ice—metal?—is manipulated into place. A snick and it’s locked into place, unmoving. Sam bites his tongue, working very hard not to react, shivering faintly, waiting for whatever comes next.

“Wow,” Dean says, clearly impressed with himself and whatever he’s doing. “That worked wonders. Nice and soft. I thought I’d need both parts cold. Hmm… Well, I guess I should apologize in advance for the next part then.”

Sam barely has time to wonder about the apology before Dean grips his softened cock and starts working it into a freezing cold tube. He grunts, his hips instinctively jerk back, and he accidentally shuffles a few steps back. But Dean and the tube follow him. The numbers on the clock start to blur, reminding him he has to blink, and his jaw aches from clenching his teeth. Shivers race up his spine for a completely different, decidedly less pleasant reason.

“’s too cold, Dean,” he grits out.

Dean tuts sympathetically. “I know. Sorry. Give it a few minutes. Your body heat’ll warm it.”

Sam groans and nods, trying to stay still, willing his body to stop shivering. Dean grips the tube for a long moment, lending his own body heat from the outside. It finally warms enough to stop being bitingly uncomfortable.

A sharp snick.

“Alright, you can look. Whadda you think?”

Sam looks down and is hit with a moment of stunned disorientation. A cock cage. Shiny. Silver. About three inches long, maybe two inches around. His cock locked inside, the silver spindles resolutely curving down and under, intentionally holding against his natural erection pattern, a tiny golden padlock keeping it closed. The whole contraption is sleek but he can feel it’s hefty weight, pulling down against gravity.

“And now you don’t have to worry about getting hard without permission!” Dean chirped cheerfully. “What do we say, Sammy?”

Sam blinks a few times, completely distracted, before he realizes what Dean wants to hear.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. My pleasure, really.”

Curious and mesmerized, Sam reaches for it, wanting to trace the bars with his fingers, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Don’t touch it. You’re not allowed.”

 _Not allowed_ zings through him, burning, settling low, behind his balls and his feebly twitching cock.

“’Hey, Mikey, I think he likes it,’” Dean jokes.

Sam pulls a face at him and Dean playfully rolls his eyes in return.

“Alright. You’re not done yet. Eyes back on the clock.”

Sam hesitates. “Is it more cold?”

“Nah,” Dean says. “I really am sorry about that. Learning curve. I’ll know next time.”

“Next time?”

Dean shrugs. “If we both decide we like it.”

Sam nods, but still wonders faintly if he has time to look into the box he hadn’t thought to pay attention to, but he knows he’ll pay the price if he does. He looks instead at that damned clock that he’s going to have to take down when this is over because he’ll never be able to look at it again without blushing.

Dean shifts behind him and tugs his jeans further down, completely baring his ass, settling them around his thighs. He kicks Sam’s feet apart once, twice, widening Sam’s stance. Sam can’t decide if this feels exposing or not with his cock and balls so thoroughly bound and not swinging free like they normally would in this position. Dean settles his internal debate by grabbing his ass cheeks and separating them.

“The path to nirvana’s through that hole.”

Sam’s face somehow blazes even hotter.

Dean’s left arm wraps around his middle pulling him tight against Dean’s front. Dean squeezes his right hand between them to rub a slicked finger against Sam’s tight opening. The touch is firm and insistent but still teasing. Just the tip of the finger, dipping in an imitation of a breach before pulling back to rub and tease some more. Sam grips the forearm around his middle just to have something to do with his hands so that he doesn’t break and push back into the touch.

“Dean, please…”

Rub, rub, dip.

“Dean, I need more…”

Rub, rub, dip.

Again and again until the tip of his finger sinks in to the knuckle without any resistance and is welcomed with a groan from Sam. Even as he starts to feel a little overwhelmed, the part of his brain that never really shuts off is hard at work, cataloguing. This feels different. He can feel the blood trying to surge into his cock, plumping him just enough to press against the bars, but unable to go any further and retreating. It creates a dull, swirly feeling in his groin that ebbs and flows with the push and pull of Dean’s finger in his body.

“You like that, Sammy?”

Sam swallows with an audible click and nods.

“It feels… different,” he rasps hoarsely. “Different in a good way.”

Dean plays, slipping his finger in further, thrusting, pressing, teasing. Finally, he pulls his finger out to Sam’s grunting dissatisfaction, but it’s not long before a replacement pressing in, nudging, stretching. A little bit thicker, enough to be noticeable. As the plug bumps and slides into place, Sam already knows which one it is. He made the mistake of telling Dean a few weeks back that wearing this plug felt like being fingered while standing up straight.

“Still good?”

Overwhelmed and overstimulated in ways his brain has never experienced before, Sam only nods. It takes him longer than he cares to admit to realize Dean has done up his pants and is tugging him by the hand towards the stairs leading out of the bunker.

He belatedly digs his heels in, each resisting step shooting sparks up his spine and threatening to short his brain. “Whoa… Wait. Yellow. Where are we going? I don’t do exhibitionism neither.”

Dean stops and lets his hand go. The rule is no touching during Yellow so whichever one of them called it can have a moment to think, free and clear.

“We’re not doing exhibition. We’re just running an errand. I won’t touch you. You won’t touch me. Nobody touches themselves,” Dean says with a smirk. “And you can’t get hard, so nobody’ll know what’s going on unless you tell them.”

Sam swallows hard, willing his brain to catch up. “Where… where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise, but I think you’ll like it.”

Sam thinks long and hard but can’t come up with any real objection beyond being worried people will somehow know. “Fine. But remember, _you_ set the precedence that leaving the bunker during a fantasy doesn’t automatically mean it’s exhibitionism.”

“Yes, sir, your honor.”

Riding in the Impala is hard because of the vibrations of its powerful engine. No matter how Sam leans or slouches, he can feel it through both the cage and the plug.

“You okay?” Dean asks with every ounce of innocence he can manage in his voice.

“Peachy,” Sam answers, not wanting to admit the truth, but it comes out far raspier than he intended.

Dean smiles so smugly Sam gives up and stares out the window. He resolutely crosses his arms so he doesn’t tug at the cage or rock against the plug like he’s dying to.

Ten minutes later, they pull up to Garter Snakes. From the daring displays in the windows, it’s an adult novelty store.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Are we going in?”

Dean reaches for his wallet and hands him a credit card and a folded piece of paper. “ _We’re_ not. _You_ are.”

Sam gawks for a second and considers balking. Dean simply stares back, patiently awaiting the tantrum. Sam won’t give him the satisfaction. He grabs the card and the list and opens the door.

“Everything on the list!”

Sam’s pure stubbornness gets him inside the shop before he even really realizes what he’s let Dean reverse psych him into doing. At least the irritation has made him soft enough that the cage doesn’t feel so tight. He can still feel the damn plug with every step though, so who knows how long that’ll last. He opens the list to figure out what he’s supposed to be looking for. It's a short list, but he can already feel a blush working up the back of his neck.

 

-Paddle, size/shape your choice, leather wrapped (yours has crack in handle)

-Dildo, vibrating, at least 8” long, 3” around, **must have suction cup base!**

-lube (special kind for anal), heating if possible (?)

-video w/ rimming AND edging

 

“Welcome to Garter Snakes. My name’s Kai."

Sam nearly crumples the list in his fist, instinctively hiding it away. Kai gives him a curious look but continues on with her spiel.

"We’re having a special, ten bucks off every fifty spent. If you need anything, let me know.”

Sam waves her off, barely looking at her, catching a flash of pink hair in his peripheral, but too embarrassed to make eye contact. He looks around at the store, getting a lay of the land. It’s got warm yellow lighting, inviting, not too bright, but enough to avoid creating dark corners for lurkers, and smells of soft vanilla. The ceiling sports hanging placards that indicate each area of the store. Sam spots the ‘For Him’ section and makes his way there.

He starts down the first aisle and then the next, looking for vibrators or dildos. In the back of his mind, he wonders if Kai can see him, knows where he is in the store’s layout, but when he tosses her a look, she’s reading a magazine at the counter. He wanders for a bit, mind boggled by all the different size, shapes, and choices before finding what he’s looking for. He bends down to see the offerings in the middle shelf of the display rack and yelps as the plug reminds him it’s still there with a sharp jab.

“Baskets are at the end of each aisle,” Kai calls out. “Please don’t open the merchandise. We got samplers up front if you want to test the textures.”

“Thanks,” Sam calls back, not even wanting to know what Kai thinks he might be doing back here. He wiggles until his body and the plug come to a more pleasant agreement then picks through the options until he finds two contenders that meet Dean’s requirement. A brown one (Badass Booty Vibe) and a bright blue one (Quaker Anal Vibe). He holds them side by side trying to imagine which would feel better inside of him. The thought makes him groan a little as his cock pushes ineffectually against the cage. Sam picks the blue one because it has enough texture on the shaft without looking life-like and it doesn’t have the fake sac that creeps him out. He briefly wonders if he can pick the label off before getting back to the Impala.

The paddle and the lube are easier to find, both in the novelty section closer to the front of the store, part of the far more on sedate side of kink that would attract anyone who wondered in on a whim or a dare. However, they don’t have any heated lube specifically for anal, so Dean’s outta luck there.

The video’s harder to find. Not that Sam even knows why he’s buying physical copies when Dean watches porn for free by the terabyte on the internet. But it’s on the list. As far as Sam can tell, they’re catalogued by sexual orientation and then alphabetically by title but not by act. He figured guy on guy action would make rimming easier to find. It’s hard to tell by reading the blurb or looking at the covers which feature twinks getting reamed by huge dudes with even bigger cocks, blow jobs, or hardcore BDSM, all kinda hot looking, but not what he’s looking for. He looks through cover after cover, his breath getting faster and the cage getting snugger, but he can’t figure out how to tell which video has what in it.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Sam startles so badly, Kai’s lucky he’s not carrying his demon blade.

“Sorry. I tried to make noise, but you were kinda into what you were doing.”

Sam clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m looking for a video. With um, rimming and… um, edging. Uh, both. For a friend.”

To Kai’s credit, she doesn’t even lift her pierced brow. “Is it okay to assume you’re looking for guy on guy or are you on the wrong shelf?”

“Um… I’m on the right shelf.”

“Okay,” she reaches on the shelf and pulls a DVD case and flips it over. “The cases all have color coding dealing with the part of the bodies or fluids. Brown sticker is acts dealing with the anus. White in this section is the penis usually dealing with the ejaculate. Golden yellow… well you get the point. So…”

She thumbs through a few cases and picks out three and flips them over. “Brown R for rimming. Yeah, gross, I know, but assume everybody’s super clean. And white E for edging.”

Sam looks stunned for a second then takes the cases, throwing all three in his basket without looking at them. “Thanks.”

Kai rings up his purchases and bags them in a plain paper bag with a reminder that any opened items were non-returnable for hygienic reasons except for the DVDs which could be returned for store credit for up to 30 days but they would only accept one return in a 60-day period. Sam’s esteem for Garter Snake went up thirty percent just because she didn’t make a joke about him making sure he doesn’t have too much fun at once.

Back at the car, Sam eases into his seat, careful of how he sat on the plug, and sets the bag between them.

"Have fun?" Dean asks with a smirk that's tipping into a leer.

Sam shrugs, admitting nothing. “You know, we could’ve bought all this online.”

“Coulda,” Dean agrees as he starts the ignition and throws the gear in reverse.

“Are we even going to watch the videos?”

“Nope. Not today anyway. But I knew you’d have to look through a crap ton of videos with graphic covers and read a bunch of porny descriptions to find them. What better way to test your cage than to make sure you’re thinking about filthy, hot sex?”

Sam raises a single eyebrow. “Staying in the bunker and actually _having_ filthy, hot sex?”

“Ah, we needed the other stuff and I didn’t want to have to wait for delivery and drive all the way out to the P.O. box,” Dean finally admits.

By the time they get back to the bunker, Sam’s beyond antsy. The vibrations got him worked up again and there’s a feeling, welling, swelling in the pit of his stomach. It’s a tension, aching but in a good way wonderful, that makes him wanna stretch both into it and away. He can’t quite name it, but he knows he wants more of it.

Dean heads towards his own room and Sam follows him.

“Strip. Everything off,” Dean orders, dropping the bag with Sam’s purchases on the bed.

Sam takes off his clothes, tossing his shirts and jeans at the foot of Dean’s bed, kicking his shoes just under. His nipples harden in the slightly cooler air and his brain reflexively sends a signal at him to give a tug to his cock, to adjust for the slight increase in blood flow. He looks down at the cage, still fascinated by the dusky rose color of his cock against the gleaming silver bars.

“Super fucking hot, right? And this is my favorite part,” Dean says and pokes a finger through the bars to touch Sam’s cock which is tight and chubby with arousal but not hard. Dean pokes and rubs until Sam moans with frustration.

“Mmm… I know, but you’re doing exactly what I want. So I’m going to give you something you want.”

Sam shifts in anticipation and trepidation. He’s not going to take the cage off already, is he? Yeah, it’s awful, but it’s great and… not yet…

But Sam worried for nothing. Instead, Dean crosses to his dresser and pulls out a stretch of fabric they bought to use as a blindfold. He steps behind Sam and ties it tight, cutting off Sam’s vision.

“I want you to feel, Sammy. Don’t worry about how it looks.”

Dean takes ahold of Sam’s arm and guides him a few steps.

“Hands on the door,” Dean commands softly into his ear.

Sam shivers and reaches out, feeling for the cool wood in front of him, pressing his palms flat, spreading his legs a little, pushing his ass out. He knows exactly what this means and it _is_ one of the things he likes best on days like this.

“I know you really get into this, but we’re not gonna go full out. Just wanna give you a taste of what it feels like with the cage on. Brace yourself.”

Sam doesn’t have to wait long for the first hit to land. It thwacks against his ass, loud and stinging, and he hisses.

“More, please.”

Dean hits again and Sam moans, feeling his cock jerk futilely against the cage.

The next hit lands and the next and the next. It all jumbles for Sam. Where his cock would normally be getting hard, there’s nowhere for the arousal to flow so it swirls back up and out to twirl in his stomach in a warm, fuzzy topsy-turvy twist, his body confused. Combined with the mixed signal pleasure-pain he already gets from being paddled and it knocks him into that floaty headspace so much faster. He grunts deep in his throat as Dean starts to land really hard hits.

“Please more. Green...”

“I think that’s enough for you. You’re barely on your feet.”

Sam scrunches his face into a soft pout. “Feels good, though…”

“But too much of a good thing is a bad thing,” Deans reminds him. A grip on his elbow leads him away from the door and a push makes him land on his belly on something soft. The bed probably. Rough hands knead at his sore ass cheeks, making him groan, push back into the touch and instinctively hump down against the bed for friction he can’t feel through the stupid cage. His disgruntled groan only makes Dean chuckle. A hand pushes his right leg up, perpendicular from his body and with a tug on Dean’s part and a moan on his, the plug is pulled from his body.

“You could fuck me now,” he suggests helpfully.

“I know I could since I’m in charge today, right?”

Oh, yeah.

“Right,” Sam grumps back.

“Rest there for a minute.”

Sam slumps down onto the mattress, lightly mourning the fact that he can’t hump one out right now while the swirly, floaty feeling still has him. In the back of his mind, he can hear the crinkling of plastic, Dean moving around, water running for a while. A scrape of something across the floor.

He only whines lightly when his hands are pulled behind his back. The whine turns into a much more pleased sound when warm metal quickly surrounds them, restraining him.

“Cuffs? Pulling out all the stops, huh?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” Dean promises. “Up we go.”

Dean pulls him to his feet. A hand to his neck pulls his head down and he feels Dean’s tongue slip between his lips, lick into his mouth. He moans and meets Dean in kind. Usually, Dean makes him go slow, but this kiss is forceful and more than a little wild. He keeps pace until rough fingers reach down to rub at his balls, poke and caress around the gaps and edges of the cage until he loses his breath and has to break the kiss. He drops his head to Dean’s shoulder.

“...Such a tease.”

“And you love it.”

Sam doesn’t try to deny it. Just humps into the touch until the fingers slip away.

“Spread your legs.”

Sam does.

“Wider.”

Another scrape.

Pressure, Dean’s hand on his shoulder. “Sit. Slowly as you can.”

Sam does as ordered, moving so slowly his thighs start to tremble.

“Stop.”

Sam freezes, caught in a half squat, tightening his muscles, determined to stay there. Dean does something and he feels a pressure against his hole. It’s the dildo. It’s gotta be.

Dean’s hand shifts to his back, a slight support. “Sit. Slowly.”

Sam moans and feels the heavy weight of the cage as his cock tries to twitch. The pop of pressure as the toy is forced in by his own body weight yanks a shiver out of him.

“Good, you’re doing so good,” Dean murmurs.

Sam doesn’t even try to keep in the noise as he slides down inch after inch of the toy, the additional thickness stretching and challenging him the whole way. Dean has shifted the entire side of his body against Sam’s back to relieve some of the strain on Sam’s thighs when he has to pause, wait for his body to adjust. By the time his ass meets the wood of the chair, Sam’s gasping for breath and he can feel pre-cum dripping from the tip of his cock in spite of the cage, his body clenching and releasing around the thick intrusion he’s mounted on.

Dean pulls the blindfold up and Sam blinks against the sudden light.

Dean leans around him to study his face, seeming to take in every detail. “Fuck, you look so hot. Your eyes are blown wide open. Does it feel good?”

Sam groans and nods weakly before slumping to rest his chest against the chair Dean has him straddling backwards.

“Well, it’s going to feel better,” Dean says with a smirk before slipping the blindfold back into place.

That’s all the warning Sam gets before the toy clicks on sending vibrations skittering through him.

“Oh fuck,” Sam moans. “ _Fuck, Dean…”_

“Mmm… not yet. I wanna see you ride first. Up and down. Gimme a show, Sammy.”

A helpless moan leaks out of Sam's throat. It’d be easier if Sam’s hands were free.

But who wants easy?

It takes a few tries to figure out how to use his knees to grip the edges of the chair and push his weight up with his toes. But sweet fuck, once he gets it going…

His head lolls to the side and a purr rumbles in his chest. Unable to see, he’s completely focused on the feel of the dildo, the thickness making him feel overstuffed, the slick, delicious slide out, the unbelievably tight push back in, the vibrations rippling through his hole, zipping up his spine. Arousal curls and flares into his stomach, pushing up into his chest, beckoning him, daring him.

“Yeah, just like that. You’re gonna love this. Can you feel it? How you’re starting to tighten up?”

Sam hums in agreement. His muscles _are_ tensing, building towards… something.

“All the way down,” Dean commands with a soft push to Sam’s shoulder. “Stay.”

Sam collapses with a relieved sigh, his thighs quivering with exhaustion. He curls in on himself best he can, the continued vibrations giving his system no real respite.

Dean’s hand slides to Sam’s waist, trails over his hips, over the curve of his ass, down his crack to trace down to where he’s spread wide around the dildo. A single finger traces the taut skin that clings around the toy, making Sam shiver and whine.

“So open, taking that thing like a champ. Bet it feels huge inside you, huh?”

Sam nods weakly, tingling all over, his toes curling and releasing with every pass of Dean’s finger.

“Lean forward.”

Dean pushes him until his chest touches the chair back, encourages Sam to arch his back. Two clicks... Sam shudders and gasps as the dildo that’s been forced directly against his prostate vibrates at tenfold the intensity. He can't even form words to tell Dean how good, how intense it feels.

“Oh, look at you now. I think you’re gonna do it. So pretty…”

Sam starts to ride the sensation. He’s far too tired for the up and down, so he swivels his hips in a tight arc, back and forth.

“There you go. Keeping going. You can do it…”

Sam’s not even quite sure what Dean’s trying to get him to do. Can he actually cum like this? All he wants is more of this feeling, this overwhelming, full, full, full, swirling tension that’s threatening to snap his bones and bubble out the top of his head.

Dean snugs up behind him, touching everywhere. Rubbing his back, around to his chest, tweaking at his nipples, down to his hole.

Rub, rub, rub.

Another click and the vibration increases.

Sam tries to hold back the whining moan but it leaks out when Dean pushes his lips open to lick into Sam’s mouth. It devolves into a sloppy kiss because Sam can hardly breath. This terrible, achy, fantastic thing that’s building has him gasping and sweating and trembling.

“You’re almost there, Sammy. Go for it.”

Sam grinds his hips down, riding the dildo for all its worth.

“Need… need more, I think?” Sam sobs desperately.

Dean’s hand snakes down and grabs his cock by the root, just above the cage, rubs his balls hard. Two fingers extend to press that oh-so-sensitive stretch of skin between his balls and his hole.

“Whatever you need.”

Two clicks.

Sam’s breath stalls in his chest and his whole body freezes. He grunts, his every nerve trembling on the edge of a precipice. He just… He grinds... tenses...

And then it tips.

Sam lets out a shuddering groan as his entire body ripples in an orgasm unlike any he’s ever experienced before. He feels it head to toe, goosebumps all over, a bone-deep release, and it makes him arch even further, greedy, wanting more.

When the waves finally break, he slumps back against Dean, trusting his brother to catch him.

“Holy fuck. What was that?” Sam pants.

“Congratulations, little brother. I believe you just came without cumming.”

Sam twitches, still gasping for breath. His entire body feels like it could float. He sits forward and slumps against the chair, seeking more of this new type of pleasure even though he already feels boneless. But the vibrations still feel damned good, teasing sharp, little aftershocks from his body. He rides it as long as he can, broken, off-key hums rumbling out of his throat as he works his hips against the sensation.

Just as he opens his mouth to say ‘yellow’, Dean dials the vibrations down to a much lower settings. Sam’s grinds slowly against the toy, trying to eek out the last dregs, loathe to let go of it. When his hips stop, Dean turns it completely off, uncuffs Sam and pulls the blindfold off.

“What’s your color, Sammy?”

“Gah,” Sam slurs tiredly.

Dean laughs, but runs his fingers through Sam’s hair, tugging at the roots, massaging his scalp. Sam nearly purrs.

Dean lets him lounge, easing him through it until Sam’s head starts to loll.

“Alright, up and at ‘em, you,” Dean says with a grunt at the wraps an arm around Sam’s midsection. Sam’s thighs slip in the mess of pre-cum that has dribbled onto the chair and down the inside of his legs. As Dean lifts him up with minimal help from Sam, the dildo slips free with a quiver-inducing pop. His hole clenches already missing the full feeling and he mumbles weakly in complaint.

Dean guides him onto the bed, laying him on his back. “Hands on the headboard.”

Sam complies, lazily throwing his hands above his head.

Dean quickly undresses and joins Sam on the bed. He presses Sam’s legs up and apart. Sam watches dazedly as Dean picks up a small key from the nightstand and grasps the cock cage. As tired as he is, Sam gives a hum of encouragement. He hisses and arches as Dean licks through the spindles of the cage, his pointed tongue swiping at the swaths of skin he can reach, each lick a cruel tease. A finger slips down to tease at the loose edges of his opening, light, probing rubs that promise more. Dean licks and rubs until Sam breaks and begs, his hips thrusting towards Dean.

"Come on, Dean. Please..."

He's not even sure what he's asking for but he knows he wants it now.

With a small turn of Dean's wrist, the lock springs open and all the tension in the cage releases.

Sam gasps. By all rights, he should be exhausted, in a refractory period, but his cock’s already growing, angry red with pales lines from being pressed against the bars of the cage for so long. His hips arch up instinctively.

Dean puts the cage and all its part on the nightstand, slicks his hand with lube, and grips Sam, stroking quickly and firmly.

Sam shivers and shudders, his body and mind at odds. His brain’s saying he just orgasmed and it’s nap time, _but_ he didn’t ejaculate so as far as his cock is concerned, it’s still play time.

Dean ends up breaking the stalemate.

“Just relax, I’ll do all the work.”

“Sounds good. Best idea ever,” Sam murmurs, lazily watching Dean slick his own cock.

He doesn’t object when Dean grabs him buy the hips and drags Sam’s ass into his lap. Or when he hooks Sam’s left leg up on his shoulder and pushes the right out to the side, pressing it against the bed, stretching Sam’s muscles tight, laying his body wide open.

They both groan when Dean pushes inside.

“Damn, you feel good,” Dean murmurs with a kiss to the inside of the leg hooked over his shoulder.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

Dean fucks him fast, like he’s lost all patience. He probably has since this is the most contact he’s had all day. The friction builds up quickly and intensifies when Dean leans into kiss Sam, nearly doubling him over. Sam’s eyes cross as the thrusts get exponentially deeper.

“Can’t breathe,” Sam groans regretfully.

Dean sits back on his haunches, but keeps Sam’s leg where it is and keeps thrusting. “Ready for the big finish?”

“Is it a happy ending,” Sam tries to joke through a moan.

“The happiest.”

He grips Sam’s cock and starts working him, quick and fast. Sam eyes roll back in his head and he clenches down around Dean, making him feel so much bigger, as Sam’s hips dance between the pressure of the cock inside him and the friction of the hand around him.

“Oh, fuck…”

“Come on. Give it to me, Sammy. I want it.”

It only takes a few minutes for Sam to tense up again but this feels much more familiar but equally welcome. A few more strokes and his cock spurts, copious amounts spilling against his stomach and chest. The orgasm is sharp and intense and it’s not until Sam sniffles that he realizes tears are streaming down his cheeks.

Dean cums seconds later, his warm spend pumping into Sam’s now prone body, his hips jerking, working his way through his own aftershocks.

Finally, he lets Sam’s leg slide off and collapses onto Sam’s chest.

“Uff… you're heavy.”

“I’m not heavy, I’m—”

Sam clamps his hand over Dean’s mouth and pokes him into the side until Dean relents and pulls out of and off his body.

“Don’t ruin my afterglow, Sammy,” Dean complains and pulls Sam towards him. Now, that he can breathe, Sam relaxes and goes with the flow.

Dean, who’ll never admit he’s a cuddler, cuddles with Sam until Sam’s nearly asleep.

“Roll over.”

The words rouse Sam just enough to get him to turn onto his stomach. Firm hands massage his back, his limbs, lull him until drifts away.

He wakes to the feel of warm water on his cock. A quick glance at Dean’s alarm clock says he’s only been asleep about ten or so minutes.

“Should I be concerned about you taking advantage of me in my sleep?” Sam asks sleepily as Dean handles his flaccid cock, studying it this way and that.

“Just wanna make sure it didn’t break the skin,” Dean says and then continues wiping Sam off. The warm water residue combined with the cooler air of the room makes Sam’s skin tingle in its wake, but Sam doesn’t stop him. When Dean’s finally satisfied, he folds the towel and puts in on the tray on his night stand.

“Here. Sit up, you gotta be running on fumes.”

Sam shuffles up until he’s leaning on the headboard. Dean settles next to him and hands him a glass of apple juice and half an apricot. Sam accepts both but squirms until he’s leaned against Dean’s chest and one of Dean’s arms is wrapped around his waist.

“What did you think?”

“Awesome. We definitely gotta do that one again,” Sam mumbles through the fruit.

“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Dean says, taking the empty glass and setting it back on the tray.

Sam licks the apricot juice off his fingers and yawns.

Dean laughs. “Nap?”

“Nap.”

They slide down flat into the bed, Sam the little spoon despite his bigger size. He’s almost back to sleep when Dean murmurs against his ear.

“Next time, I’m gonna stick a vibrator up your ass, and spank you until you cum all over yourself.”

Sam shivers hard. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

 


End file.
